The Days Your Heart Isn't In it

[westpointbat]

There's some kind of compulsion driving Kate Kane to be out in cold, damp weather like this, doing her public service. She doesn't have to be here. No one's expecting her to be here. She could go home and bury her head under the covers and just grieve for the fact that Maggie Sawyer's decided to put the brakes on their relationship again, for whatever reasons she may have. Surely, they're all legitimate. Dating Kate Kane isn't healthy for anyone, and Kate Kane will always be the first one to tell you that. Doesn't stop her from trying. Anything to keep from being as joyless as Batman seems to be.

She doesn't even particularly want to be out here in this slushy mess. But you don't come this far, you don't get this elaborate, you don't become a Bat in Gotham City without having a fire in your belly, a burning in your brain that makes you do your job. It's a responsibility, it's a necessity. The work has to be done, and there are only a select few who can do it.

And the fact that the miserable experience of being outside right now matches the miserable feelings she's got inside. There's something to be said about that environmental synchronicity.

Now if only Joey Numbers here would do something to justify the fact that she's out here staring into his window, waiting for the drop to go down.

Comments

[flame_bird]

"You know, if he were going to do anything, I'm pretty sure he'd have done it by now."

Bette's suit, at least, has heating built into it. Kate is just so... Kate, that she's probably just running on body heat or something masochistic like that. Especially in Gotham's winters.... well and summers too.

[westpointbat]

That's absolutely not true. Kate's nothing if not practical when on the job. But that's not to say she wouldn't be trying that if the heat wasn't working.

"The drop is coming. I know it. Stakeouts require patience beyond your ken."

[flame_bird]

"Hrmmm."

Bette stays back from where Kate is watching. Her color profile does not match the greyscale of Gotham and it doesn't exactly blend in with the gargoyles. She's sort of a walking target but that's okay.

"I can't be patient."

[westpointbat]

"Then be out of sight. Play some solitaire. Text your BFF at the mall or something."

Here we go. No. Just a drink refill. At this rate, he'll be hilariously drunk when it comes time for the showdown.

"Or go get me a burrito."

[flame_bird]

Bette sniffs. It is the sort of sniff that isn't quite disdainful but frustrated, certainly.

"My BFF is running a multinational. I'm pretty sure she doesn't have time to answer my texts right now."

[westpointbat]

"That's why texts were invented. You send them and get a response whenever they have time. Do I really have to explain this to you?"

There's a hint of teasing in her voice. She will not admit that she's grateful for the company, to help her mood. That doesn't mean she's not going to be contentious.

[flame_bird]

"When she has time. That doesn't change the fact that you've been watching this guy get drunk for at least two hours now," she says. The teasing is totally returned with faces at Kate's back.

"It is cold and boring now."

[westpointbat]

"This guy happens to be running a smuggling racket down at the Port Authority, and I need to know who he's running it for. I can't tip my hand by beating it out of him."

She wrings some dampness out of her cape.

"If you're going to do this job, you need discipline enough to do it without whining."

[flame_bird]

Oh, she can, she's just... in a mood tonight for some reason. She settles in to sit there next to Kate. There is a meditative state she can reach for calming herself down - especially for competitions. It can help in situations like this too - clarity of focus, allowing for speed of movement as well.

[westpointbat]

A long while passes in silence, with nothing but the sounds of the street and the occasional light drizzle.

Then, soon, the sounds of The Sniffling of the Batwoman.

"All right. He's getting a call. Flip the scanner on so we can listen in."

[flame_bird]

Flamebird opens her eyes and reaches out for the scanner. She turns it on and makes sure that it is tuned appropriately to listen to the conversation on the phone. "Done."

[westpointbat]

Joey Numbers' chatter seems innocuous - if dripping with 'ain't I tough' attitude - at first.

Then, a name is dropped. Wyatt. Which can only mean Wyatt Wallace, a rising name in crime out of the Narrows.

"Finally, some dirt on that bastard."

[flame_bird]

"I wouldn't quite say that," Bette mumbles. She's mostly talking to herself about that. Wyatt was mentioned but what does that really mean? Well, maybe they'll head down and punch people. Punching might be nice, actually.

[westpointbat]

"Trusting Joey Numbers is Wyatt's first mistake," she returns.

There's a brief moment of considering that this may be some kind of set-up - Wyatt's been really careful so far. Then again, there's a reason he's a rising name and not just a name.

Joey then gets cryptic, which isn't his style, which indicates that "the gazebo is clean" is code for the drop spot.

He hangs up the phone.

"Now we can beat it out of him."

[flame_bird]

"Oh good. That's much more fun."

Looking over at her cousin, she smiles, the expression a little hard to read. She likes the fighting better than than waiting. She likes the winning better than either.

"Age before beauty."

[westpointbat]

There may or may not be a snort at that, as she's made it to the ledge before she's even got the last syllable out.

If she's honest, she's been just as itchy as Bette's been about kickstarting this along, so it's going to feel good when she blasts through the window to leg-scissor tackle this goon before he gets his next beer.

It's loud. Joey screams. It's almost a squeal.

[flame_bird]

Flamebird lands behind her, checking the room. If she's got the guy they were watching, she's looking to see what happens now. Are there goons they didn't notice? Some sort of elaborate death trap? That happens here some times.

[westpointbat]

No death trap, but there are some noises from the back bedroom. For as long as they've been here, you'd think they'd have seen anyone else in there, but no. Either his friends were crashed out and sleeping for the last few hours - which isn't unheard of given how much they like the drink - or they're guarding the stash.

"You know why I'm here, Joey. Out with it!"

Joey spits out a tooth he lost upon hitting the linoleum.

"Whaaa?"

Batwoman's knee levels the back of his head, grinding his face back in the floor.

"Wrong answer."

[flame_bird]

While Batwoman takes care of this good, Flamebird heads to the door to the bedroom. A twist of the wrist and she drops a flashbang from her gauntlet into the palm of her hand. Taking a deep breath in, she turns and kicks the door the rest of the way open, tossing it toward the center of the room, while triggering the protection on her goggles.

[westpointbat]

Fortunately for her, the guy handcuffed to the bed is able to roll out of the way of the flashbang before it goes off, but he's still stuck on the far side of the bed. The three goons with guns, however, aren't so fortunate, reeling from the blinding light and stumbling around.

[flame_bird]

That makes it mostly cleanup, thank goodness. Flamebird works on disarming them first. One they're without guns, (kicked under the bed for the most part) it makes most of this much easier to handle. And hey, this way she doesn't have to handle all of that horrible cliched banter - especially about her being a girl or something like that.